Origins of the Scouring
by bluematrix12
Summary: Sword of Seals picks up 1000 years after the Scouring. Ever wondered what happened before the human-dragon war? Like all heroes, they aren't perfect, but legend cuts out those flaws. Read and review, please!
1. The Champion

**I've wanted to write something for this site for a while, and I finally had a great idea in pre-Sword of Seals. The grammar shouldn't be as awful as some grammar I've seen, but don't expect perfection. Anyway, I don't own Fire Emblem or it's characters in any way, shape, or form. Read and review, please. :)**

**Ancient Lycia**

The boy stood among the charred remains of his village, tears rolling down his soot-covered cheeks. The dragon attack had come so suddenly, without any warning. He had seen the wooden huts ignite as streams of fire issued from the beast's gaping maw. Five of the village's young men, including his father, had attacked the winged monster in a vain attempt to drive it away. Two of them had been too slow to avoid the fire. They had been alive one second and then dead the next, as the fire engulfed them and turned them to ash. The dragon's tail had whipped around, as thick as a tree trunk but as fast as any whip, the tail spikes smashing through the bones of two others. Their fractured skeletons, no longer able to support their bodies, had fallen to the ground in broken heaps.

His father had stood valiantly before the dragon, alone, with no hope of victory. Suddenly, the dragon roared in pain as the lone defender drove his broadsword through a gap in the hardened scales, forcing it deep into the soft flesh beneath. The tortured shriek was a horrible sound, resonating throughout the night air. The man had smiled in a sort of weak triumph. But his victory was cut short when the creature lashed out with its foreleg, sending him flying twenty feet backward. His broken body lay unmoving in the grass as the dragon, bellowing in pain, took to the air. The steady beating of its scaly wings and its ear-shattering screams faded as its silhouette drew further and further away. The boy rose to his feet, fists clenched. _I'll make them pay, Dad, _he swore. _I'll make them pay. _Little distinguishes this story from the hundreds of other tales of dragon raids across the continent. Only one detail marks it important. The boy's name was Roland.

**Ten Years Later…**

Roland swung the heavy broadsword easily in a wide arc, testing the weight and balance of the weapon.

"It's great," he told the armory storekeeper. "How much?"

"Nine hundred and eighty gold," the massively built blacksmith informed him. "You can pay?"

The young warrior pulled a pouch filled with gold coins from his belt and tossed it to him. "Keep the change," he instructed the smith as he exited the armory. Outside, the cool breeze greeted him and set his cloak flapping in the wind. Suddenly, Roland's peace was disturbed by a high-pitched scream. _A cry for help, _he corrected himself. Without a moment of hesitation, he broke into a run in the direction from which the scream had come, sword hand on the hilt of his broadsword.

The young swordsman arrived in a forest clearing occupied by a most disquieting scene. A rough looking man had pinned to a tree one of the most beautiful young women Roland had seen in his life. Her luxurious blond hair hung down to her waist and she was garbed in a extravagant purple and white dress. At the moment though, she looked quite distressed. An ugly bruise was prominent on her right cheek, and the shameful expression on her face told Roland that the man had done some rather unpleasant things to her before Roland's arrival. Tears ran down the girl's cheeks as the man secured her lips in an unwilling kiss, defiling her mouth with his filthy tongue. Roland could watch no longer as the scene unfolded in front of him.

"Let her go!" he shouted, drawing his new sword and allowing the whisper of sword on scabbard to ring throughout the wooded clearing.

The man whirled around, his bearded face contorted in anger. The girl's eyes glanced up and hope filled her teary eyes. She smiled at Roland, and then was sent wheeling as the roughneck struck her across the face.

"See what you've done?" he snarled. "This wouldn't have happened if you hadn't made so much noise, you little…"

He trailed off as his simplistic mind registered the more imminent problem of Roland and his broadsword. His limited imagination took the direct solution. He charged. Roland sidestepped the clumsy axe strike contemptuously as he realized the man was drunk. He dodged another overhead swing and swept the roughneck's legs out from under him. As the axe fighter rose uneasily to his feet, Roland smashed the heavy hilt of the broadsword twice against the man's temple, rendering him unconscious. Satisfied with his handiwork, Roland turned back to the girl he had rescued. She smiled that beautiful smile again at him, and he managed one back.

"T-thank you." It was barely audible as a whisper, but Roland heard it.

"My pleasure," he responded. "I'm Roland, by the way. It's not like I could just sit back and let him do…that to you."

"Elimine," she told him. "I-it's my name. Watch out!"

This last sentence was issued as a warning to Roland as a shadow loomed over him and an axe was cocked back for a skull-splitting blow. The girl now surprised Roland as her eyelids fluttered shut and she spoke a few words in the ancient tongue. A flash of light struck the troublemaker square between the eyes and sent him staggering back. Roland reached for his broadsword, but three subsequent bursts of light magic blew the man twenty feet backward into the solid trunk of a tree. Roland's eyebrows arched in confusion.

"Why didn't you do that when he first attacked you?"

"He's my father! she exclaimed. I couldn't do that to him just because he threatened me! But he was going to kill you!"

Roland snorted, dismissing her logic as hogwash. "So, what you're saying is that assaulting a adolescent girl is not as bad as attacking a armed swordfighter?"

Elimine shrugged helplessly. "Well, not exactly…but…"

Roland cut her off. "No. There is something much worse about what your father did to you. I think that you probably did the world a favor. So personally, I say you should get away from here for a little while. Come with me, before Ugly wakes up."

Elimine's blond head snapped up at his last statement. In truth, she was very interested in the handsome young man and his obvious weapon skill. "I could always use a gallant young knight to protect me from roadside bandits and the like. Where would we be going _together_?" She placed extra emphasis on this last word, giving him an obvious impression of her feelings toward him.

"I don't know," replied Roland, "I've always been partial to the Sacae plains."

**Well, what do you think? Personally, I like it, but I'm inclined to be biased. Who do you think we'll see next? Hint, hint, SACAE.**

**Fixed the paragraph breaks. :) Better?**


	2. The Divine Trooper

**I don't really like this one as much as the first, but I guess it'll have to do. Read and Review, please! :)**

**Bulgar**

It was about noon in the city of Bulgar, and the streets were alive with noise. The merchants had set up shop on either side of the road and were haggling with their customers. It would have been a typical day in the Sacaean capital except for the three burly men that were harassing a merchant, one holding the round little man off the ground by his collar while the other two helped themselves to his gold storage. They were troublemakers and commonly disliked among the people of Bulgar, but nobody could do anything about them.

Nobody except the petite figure crouched on a rooftop about thirty feet from said point of interest. She had watched the scene with growing distaste and decided that it was high time someone did something about or to these nasty street bullies.

She was very well equipped to accomplish this task. A thin katana-like saber adorned her hip, opposite a quiver filled with thirty razor sharp arrows, the complements to the slender yet sturdy handcrafted combat bow that was slung casually over her right shoulder. Unslinging the bow now, she fitted a grey-shafted arrow to the string with ease, bringing the bow back to full draw. Instinctively, the bow snapped up to firing position and launched the deadly missile on its path. While the first arrow was still on it's way, she drew and fired another, demonstrating her impressive speed. The two arrows struck both their targets dead-on. One man suddenly flung his arms up and fell, and the other slumped to the ground upon impact. The remaining man, panicked at the sight of seeing his companions struck down by a seemingly invisible force, dropped the merchant and turned to run.

"Don't even try." The voice rang from across the square. Turning slowly, the troublemaker was greeted with the sight of a razor-sharp point pointed directly at his chest. The stranger spoke coldly, without wavering or slowly. "First one goes through your leg. Second goes through your heart. In my opinion, I think you should make it easy on yourself and put down your weapon. "

The street bully made three fatal mistakes here. First, he doubted that any archer could actually hit a running target from across a square. Second, he assumed the first two shots had been pure luck, nothing more. And third, he could not believe that a girl could actually beat him in a fight. He charged her, heavy sword raised high above his head. The first arrow hissed through the air on an arcing path, burying itself in his left calf.

"Last warning."

Even though his leg was immobilized with pain, he judged that the odds were still roughly in his favor. The girl brought her bow up to full draw, then tossed it aside in favor of her own sword, flicking the sheath clear of the sharp blade with contemptuous ease, daring the man to attack. He took the bait, charging like a mad bull. Her sword twirled twice before striking a painful gash across his non-sword arm. Blinded by pain, he struck out once, twice with his own sword, but hit nothing but open air. He looked up to see that insufferable girl, smiling at him with mock concern.

"Oh, dear, I'm so sorry. Is there anything I can do to make the pain go away?" she asked sarcastically. "Well, I can think of one method."

The sword caught the sunlight on its blade and flashed on its way downward. The brigand's last thought was wondering how such a little girl could move so fast.

Hanon cast a sideways glance at the brigand she had just dispatched before turning away. While retrieving her bow and her three arrows from the bodies, she felt a hand on her shoulder.

"Miss?" It was the victimized merchant, a pudgy little man with a round face.

Hanon nodded to acknowledge his presence, then returned to her task of removing her arrows from the corpses.

"I was just wondering if I could do anything to thank you."

Hanon stood, replacing her arrows in her quiver. "You could pretend like I was never here. It'll save me the trouble of avoiding the rest of that nasty crowd." Without even waiting for his response, she turned and walked away, to a small shaggy horse that waited patiently by the city gates. Hanon swung herself into the saddle with practiced ease, and spurred the little pony into a brisk trot. When the merchant was asked about the three dead brigands lying facedown in the street, he could only respond that he had been blessed with divine providence.

**Sacae Plains**

The little horse trotted along at a brisk pace, carrying its seemingly absentminded rider. In reality, Hanon was scanning the forest growth for signs of brigands set on revenge for their comrades that she had felled. She'd seen three already, but nothing to be worried about quite yet. No, what she was looking for was the huge gang of bandits that would no doubt be closing in on her position even now. Best to get to an open space where her bow could inflict the most damage before they caught up to her. She strung her bow and laid it on her lap within easy reach, with an arrow already on the string.

The bandit leader concealed in the trees was no fool. He had seen the girl and her bow, which she could obviously put to deadly effect, and so stationed a few of his men on the left side of the path, directing them to make themselves obvious. Then, he and his main party had moved along on the right side of the path, unseen, or so he thought, from their dangerous ranged adversary. Suddenly, the air was filled with hissing arrows, striking down his men at a frightening pace. The little horse that the girl rode had nullified the one advantage that he thought they had. Horses weren't supposed to be effective in forests. Yet this one was galloping at a breakneck pace, carrying the girl within easy shooting range. He ducked behind a tree, and instantly, four or five razor sharp arrows slammed into the trunk. An ugly swear word sprung from his mouth. The girl could shoot like the devil and twice as fast.

Hanon sat upon her galloping horse, admiring the results of her shooting. Out of twenty-two fired, seventeen had hit lethal marks. A brigand much larger than the rest was attempting to hide behind a tree half his size. She slung the bow back over her shoulder and drew her sword. The bandit stepped out from his 'hiding place', hefting his massive axe high over his head. Hanon leaped from her horse and rolled into a standing position, twirling her sword in a glittering arc. She ducked the axe swing, and then quickly dived to one side to avoid the murderous reverse cut. The bandit was fast, and much more skillful then the others she had faced. He charged again, this time leaping high in the air to add the force of gravity to the immense force behind his strike. Hanon pretended to stumble in order to goad him into overpowering the finishing blow. The bandit's eyes glinted with triumph as he cocked the axe back and slammed it downward…into nothing. The girl had tricked him! Too late, he tried to reverse the downswing, to no avail. A brief flash of pain in his neck, and then darkness.

**I'm not completely satisfied with this chapter, but I think it sets the stage fairly well. **

**For those of you who want more backstory, I'm going to keep it secretive a little longer. Remember how tight lipped Rath and Shin are? Their ancestor must have passed something down to them.**

**I'm pondering whether to introduce another of the legends next, or to check up on Roland and Elimine coming to Sacae. Any suggestions?**


	3. Collision: Wind and Fire

**Sorry it's taken so long for me to update. I've been on and off with a project for school, and I suffered some major writers block at the end of this chapter. It's not very long, and I feel it may be lower quality, but read and review.**

**Sacae**

It had been four days on the road, and Elimine had suffered through every minute of it. Never having experienced a long journey in the saddle like Roland, she was unaccustomed to the hard riding. Of course, it also didn't help that she had fallen off her horse more than a hundred times, landing painfully on the gravelly road. The first time, when she had felt herself slipping, she had cried out before gravity drove her face into the dirt. Roland, trying to hide a smile, had dismounted with infuriating ease, and boosted her back into the saddle. The experience had annoyed her, but not so much as the pleasure she had felt when Roland clasped her hand in his when he helped her up. At that very moment, she felt the slight motion of her body sliding off the saddle. The minimal force of her slender arms fought gravity for a moment as she tried in vain to keep herself in the saddle with sheer willpower. Gravity won out, and she hit the ground yet again. Rising unsteadily to her feet, she felt a supporting arm wrap around her waist, and Roland's familiar touch. She smiled. Falling off a horse wasn't so bad if it afforded her opportunities like this.

Hanon watched the two figures from atop a nearby tree. They didn't look like bad people, she thought, but bandits will be bandits. She had received news off a small party of bandits that raided a little village every week at this time, and the two strangers might well be the advance party. Sighing, she raised the longbow and put a razor sharp arrow to the string. She wrestled with the thought of sparing the two on the chance that they were innocent. Instantly, a string of memories bombarded her mind. The day that two ragged strangers had arrived at her village, pleading for shelter. Seeing no imminent danger in the pair, the village elder had agreed to house them. When nightfall came, though, they struck, cutting down her father with their murderous swords. Her mother had pushed her, a ten-year-old girl at the time, out of the house and told her to hide in the woods. Hanon had raced out of the cottage, thinking it was some kind of game, never noticing the hut burning, never heard the sounds of people screaming and dying. Tears streaming down her cheeks, she loosed the arrow.

Roland heard the sound of the arrow before he saw, raising his shield and knocking Elimine to the ground. Oblivious to what was going on, Elimine gave way to a verbal assault on Roland.

"Get off of me, you clumsy buffoon!" she snapped. "I see you are utterly deficient in the concept of chivalry! If you had any less honor, that rock would..." Roland gave no answer to this, except to motion for her to stay down. It was then that she noticed the long arrow sprouting from his shield. "Oh…sorry."

Ignoring her frantic apologies, Roland scanned the trees for a glimpse of their unknown assailant. He knew his opponent was an archer of deadly accuracy, and could probably kill him with only a tiny, minute error. Warily, he turned in a slow circle, shield raised to deflect any sudden attacks. The moment he turned to the source of the first arrow, another hissing missile seemed to materialize out of nowhere, burying itself in his upper arm. Roland cursed, sighting his enemy for the first time, a small, green clad figure wielding a huge longbow.

Watching the arrow strike her target, Hanon descended from the tree with catlike grace, landing silently on the soft forest earth. She discarded her bow in favor of her sword, flicking the small blade out of its sheath, and twirling it in deadly silver arcs. Her lithe form covered the distance between herself and her target in a matter of seconds. She raised her sword high, prepared to cut the swordsman down.

Roland barely had time to unsheathe his sword before he was forced to bring in up in a lightning fast parry. Sparks flew as the two blades met with a metallic clang. As he brought his sword back for a return strike, he noticed the deep nick adorning his blade. Cursing silently, he resolved to be more careful with his blocks in the future. The smaller sword came at him from all angles, each time carving a deep nick in his sword. With the way his luck was going today, the blade would probably fall off. Sensing an opening, he slammed his shield into his opponent, sending her reeling. That was another problem altogether. Roland wasn't completely sure he could bring himself to kill the girl if peaceful surrender failed to be an option. Assuming victory was probable, of course.

Hanon slashed and cut with the speed of a whirlwind, never once stopping to spare her opponent even the tiniest of breaks. It was how she had learned to survive as a child. No mercy under any circumstances. If a foolish enemy provided a killing opportunity, it should be seized with all speed. She continued with her relentless assault. Her enemy couldn't last forever.

Elimine watched the fight from a distance, watched the smaller, faster swordfighter break through Roland's guard again and again, scoring countless tiny cuts and scratches on his exposed arms. The arrow wound had begun to take a toll on the swordsman through the extended fight, and the fight was coming to a close. At least, it would have, unless she intervened.

Roland was going to die. The pain in his upper arm was agonizing, and he could barely lift his sword anymore. He saw the thin, glittering blade rise up for a final slash, and knew it was over. And then, suddenly, unexpectedly, it was. A huge pillar of light erupted from the ground where his opponent stood, flinging her limp body high atop a vortex of holy light. He turned to Elimine, gave her a weary smile. Roland swayed uneasily, on the verge of collapsing from exhaustion, then his knees gave out and darkness engulfed his world.

Elimine stood alone, quivering with nervousness. The light spell hadn't taken Roland's opponent out like she'd hoped, and now he was unconscious, and she was alone. The girl approached warily, anticipating another one of the devastating attacks, holding her sword in front of her.

"How should we end this, now?" her enemy asked her. "Oh, I do detest killing other women. Can't be helped though. It's really a shame that you joined up with those bandits. I have this feeling that you're not a bad person, really."

The light mage looked at the other girl, extremely confused.

"Who said anything about being a bandit? Do I even look like a bandit to you?" She pointed accusingly at the girl facing her. "For all we know, you're a roadside bandit, trying to shoot us as we passed by."

Hanon contemplated the logic behind the argument, then shrugged.

"I don't know if I can take that chance. You might be lying just so you can get through to raid that eastern village."

Further confusion showed in Elimine's eyes.

"Village? What village?"

Hanon's decision was instantaneous. She turned, whistled for her horse, and swung into the saddle of the little shaggy horse. She beckoned to the other girl to join her.

"Come on, we've got to stop that raid!"

Elimine turned to run after her, then shook her head.

"I can't, I need to stay with my friend for when he wakes up."

The nomadic girl never turned back, only to raise a hand backward in farewell.

**For those of you who haven't noticed yet, the sword Hanon fights with is the Mani Katti. Just putting that out there. I was trying to make it pretty darn obvious in Chapter 2.**


	4. The Enigma

**This chapter was somewhat difficult to write. I'm regretting the cliffhanger at the end of 3, but there isn't much I can do about it. In this chapter, I'm introducing another one of the Eight, and the source behind all of the bandit raids Hanon was fighting.**

**Sacae**

"Wake up, sleepyhead. You've been napping long enough."

The gentle voice carried through Roland's subconscious. His eyes fluttered open to the dazzling sight of Elimine's smile. Upon seeing him awake, a blush touched her cheek as she realized that she was sitting on top of his chest. Hurriedly, she leapt to her feet, trying to stifle a giggle.

Hanon's horse galloped like the wind itself beneath her. Had the bandit raid already taken place? What if she was too late? Unbeknownst to her, someone was already doing the job for her.

**Kikara Village**

Shamans are strange people. They keep mostly to themselves, elder magic being their closest companions, but some twist the dark purposes of the elder gods to protect people.

This was exactly what Bramimond was doing at the moment, protecting people. He manipulated the dark tendrils surrounding him into a protective shield to block an axe swing, and then drove their razor sharp tips through the offending brigand, lacerating his barrel chest. He had been staying with the villagers when the bandit attack came, and had been asked to protect them.

A smile touched his face as he noticed a thunder mage standing far off, away from the fight. Magic fights were so much fun. The dark energy surrounding him lifted him and placed him next to his fellow magic user. The thunder mage cried out in shock, caught completely off guard by the close proximity of his enemy. Bramimond seized the moment, channeling a huge amount of energy into the air, opening a gaping fissure in space. Rocks and trees were torn from the earth by the devastating force of the vacuum as the mage tried in vain to avoid being sucked into the wormhole. A final scream escaped his lips as the vortex claimed smiled. Maybe it had been a little excessive, and flamboyant. But it did feel good. Not for the first time, he praised the elder deities, marveling at the power they could grant to their servants. Most manmade weapons broke clean in two when striking a wall of elder magic, and they could not hurt him anyway. Not at this point, when he was so close to mastering perfect darkness. The last of the bandits slain, he closed his book and sacrificed their souls to the darkness.

Gerard watched the little hooded man from his hiding place, cursing inwardly all the while. First the archer girl, and now the dark magic freak? If more of them kept showing up, he was in serious trouble. He turned to his second in command, a huge, battle scarred berserker.

"Terence!" he hissed, nudging the other man.

"Yeah, boss?" replied Terrence.

"Think you can take that shaman out?"

"What, that wimpy mage? I could break him in half with one hand."

"Don't be too sure," snapped Gerard. "That wimpy mage just wiped out twelve of our men, without even breaking a sweat."

"So?" Terrence had little regard for the gang's goons, treating them more like trash than fighting men. "Those guys are twits anyway."

Gerard rolled his eyes. Terrence did only one thing well, hitting people really, really, hard. Thinking was not his specialty, and the shaman could probably outsmart him as easily as blinking.

"You remember that archer girl that we sent Rade and his gang after two days ago? We thought she was a weakling too, but she tossed around his boys like rag dolls. Point is, if more of these guys keep showing up and stopping our raids, we're gonna have a problem on our hands. So I want you and a bunch of our best guys to go and take them out."

"No problem, boss."

"Just don't get yourself killed, dimwit. I'd have a hard time replacing you." In truth, Gerard could not care less about the lives of his goons, there were plenty of them, and losing one or two was no big deal. He turned his mind to the task of what to do if more of these people started showing up. Unfortunately for the crime boss, more of the troubling fighters were on the way, one from the desert, and another from the archipelago to the west.

**Sacae**

Bramimond was being followed. Twice he had glimpsed the three huge shapes outlined against the moon, hefting giant battle-axes. They were either very strange bears or more of the big ugly bandits, out to avenge their fallen comrades at Kikara. Even though they outnumbered him, he had several advantages at his disposal. One, the three of them most likely didn't think they'd been spotted yet. Two, they obviously weren't very bright. Third, the night and the darkness was his terrain, where the dark energy was so strong in the air that he could feel it.

_Time to up the ante_, he thought, casting four teleportation spells in rapid succession. A cry went up from the team of brigands as their quarry disappeared and reappeared all over the forest. Bramimond sent a wave of elder magic into the ground, directing it's silent eruption to where the three stood clustered._Flux. _He could feel their life energy draining away under the shadowy assault, and absorbed it with a vampiric spell. Their quintessence was foul, useless, only good for an offering to the elder gods. He felt the pulse of energy filtering into his body as the deities accepted the offering.

A ball of black fire formed in his hands, and he flicked it at the bandit on the left. The moment before impact, it shattered into dozens of tiny black darts, piercing the unfortunate victim's skin in millions of places. Just to make sure, he telekinetically twisted each individual shard, slicing through dozens of internal organs. Seeing that they were at his mercy with distance, the other two bandits charged. Bramimond warped, flinging magical attacks from the bandits from every angle, scoring strike after strike after strike. One of the two had already succumbed to the dark, but the biggest of the three, bleeding from gashes all over his body, lost control, going into a berserk rage.

"Crap," muttered Bramimond, warping out of the way of the all out attack. This could be a problem. Berserking brought a person beyond pain, beyond caring whether they lived or died. It could take anywhere from one blow to a thousand to finish him.

"Get back here, you!" bellowed Terrence, whirling his two throwing axes in rapid circles, "I'm gonna break you into so many little pieces, they won't know which ones to bury!"

"All of them," Bramimond grumbled. "Of course, it'd be more like slicing me into pieces." He ducked, avoiding the axe flung his way, then dematerializing to avoid the return strike. "I hate berserkers. With any luck, maybe he'll bleed to death before he catches me."

The energy of the shadows engulfed Bramimond's hand, and he flicked the dark sphere at his foe. The berserker staggered at the tremendous impact, then resumed his charge. He flung both axes at the shaman haphazardly, then unstrapped a huge battle-axe from his back. The first throwing-axe flew past Bramimond's head harmlessly, but the second caught him on the side of his head with the wooden handle. The left side of his vision was all red, as the shaman realized he was bleeding. Terrence charged him, taking advantage of his momentary imbalance. Wounded though he may have been, Bramimond, managed to dodge the whirling battle axe several times before the handle took his legs out from under him.

"Aw crap..."

The axe swung downward,then suddenly stopped. The berserker looked down to see a grey-shafted arrow protruding from his chest, shot straight through his heart. His eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed, lifeless.

**What do you guys think of Bramimond? I thought I'd give him a personality, so that he becomes a tragic character when he sacrifices his soul for perfect darkness. Anyway, I know the chapter was kind of short, but it gets the point across. I'm not entirely sure what Bramimond's spell was, so interpret it as you wish. If anyone has any ideas they'd like to see, just include it in the review.**

**I fixed the cliffhanger to a better resolution, not perfect, but it'll suffice.**


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